Different Results
by prepare4trouble
Summary: Einstein had allegedly once said that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Barry didn't care. He slipped his hand under the covers and dug the short nails of his left hand into the skin. Still nothing. Episode tag for Enter Zoom.


A/N - I've not written anything for a while, and this is my first Flash fic. I've not seen anything beyond Enter Zoom and I'm certain that this fic will not be 100% canon compliant, but my brain demanded more after that episode finished. Unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own.

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Different Results

Barry's hand traced the shape of his leg under the covers of the bed, varying pressure from a light touch to a press so hard that it should hurt. It didn't. He still couldn't feel a thing. Still, he continued, trying he same thing again and again, hoping each time for something, anything at all; the sensation of pressure, a twinge of protest in the abused muscle of his thigh.

Einstein had allegedly once said that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Barry didn't care. He slipped his hand under the covers and dug the short nails of his left hand into the skin. Still nothing.

Defeated for now, he allowed his head to flop back onto the lumpy pillow and stared up at the ceiling, trying to think about something else.

The battle with Zoom had barely even qualified as a fight, it was more of a beating, and it had been brutal. He remembered now the moment the injury had happened; the sharp impact to his lower back, the hideous cracking sound that had been his L four and five vertebrae breaking and pressing against his spinal cord. Caitlin had explained it too him, before he had asked her, and everyone else, to leave. She had expected it to be healed by now. She hadn't expected him to even notice the injury.

He forced his knuckles into his leg again, and again, and again, thumping the flesh until his hand hurt. His leg didn't respond. He might as well have been attacking the bed. He thumped himself for a fourth time.

"Hey, don't take it out on the leg."

Cisco had appeared in the doorway and was staring at him with obvious concern. Barry stopped, grabbed his right hand with his left and rubbed it until the ache subsided. He didn't meet Cisco's eye.

His friend crossed the room quickly and stopped by the bed. He smiled awkwardly and crossed his arms over his chest. "You doing okay, Barry?"

Barry shrugged. He forced a smile. "Great," he said. He had actually been going for convincing, but it came out sarcastic. He winced. "Sorry."

Cisco waved it off with a shake of his head. "Caitlin's going over the results of the MRI," he said, "comparing it to the last one. She's going to come up and talk to you in a bit, but she says it's looking better, so…" he tailed off.

Barry nodded. He wasn't sure whether that was good or bad. The optimist in him said it might mean that he was improving, heading toward a recovery. The pessimist suggested that he had healed around the wound, leaving the damage permanent. Cisco smiled, obviously choosing the believe the optimistic interpretation. His eye drifted to Barry's leg and Barry realized that his hand was rubbing it again. He stopped, deliberately folding his arms and trapping both hands under his armpits.

"Wanna know what I've been doing?" Cisco asked.

Barry frowned. "Sure?"

Cisco grinned again, then quickly wiped the expression from his face. "Okay, you're going to get better, so don't take this as me saying you're not. And don't, you know, freak out or anything. Because the first time Dr Wells… the fake Wells, that is… and I know he was faking the whole thing anyway, which seems especially messed up right now, but the first time anyone showed him one of these he got pretty angry, so…" he tailed off again.

"Cisco, whatever it is, just spit it out, okay?"

"Okay, wait right there. I mean… well, you know what I mean. I'll be back in a second." Cisco turned and fled the room. He returned a few seconds later, pushing a wheelchair.

Barry stared, caught somewhere between horror and panic. He recognized the ridiculousness of the feeling, the chair itself was just that. It didn't represent anything. It didn't represent the loss of his legs, his speed, his freedom…

"We've still got Dr… his laying around somewhere, but I didn't think you'd want anything to do with that, so…" Cisco patted the back of the chair affectionately. "A special kind of polycarbonate," he explained. "Super light, manual control, as you can probably see, which I guess'll be trickier to learn to control than a joystick, but it'll be worth it. Seriously, you would not believe the beating this thing will take. I'm pretty sure you can go as fast as you like in this. And I mean that," he leaned forward slightly, excitement glinting in his eyes. "As fast as you like."

Barry stared long and hard at the chair, unable to muster even a fraction of his friend's enthusiasm. He wasn't sure exactly what he was suggesting, but a hero in a wheelchair would… well, no doubt he'd be lauded by disability groups the world over, but practically speaking… his hand freed itself from it's underarm prison and pressed into his thigh once again. Just checking. Still the same results.

Cisco's smile began to waver slightly. "I know it's not ideal," he said, "and obviously I'm not thinking long term here, but while you recover you're going to need to be able to get around, right? So…" he waved his hand at the chair.

"It's…" Barry sighed. His fingers were protesting again at the force with which he was pushing into his leg. He forced himself to stop. He smiled, and it was half way toward genuine. "It's great Cisco. Really. Thanks."

Cisco sat down in the chair and rolled it closer to the bed. "You're going to be fine, Barry, I promise." he said. And he sounded so convinced that Barry couldn't help but believe him. Cisco leaned backward slightly to grip the wheels of the chair in a slightly different position, then tipped the it backward until it was balancing on just the wheels. He wobbled back and forth a few times and smiled.

"How do you know how to..?"

"Oh," Cisco shrugged and let go of the wheels. The chair fell down to the ground, bouncing just a little with some unseen suspension. "Well, Caitlin and I both spent a fair amount of time hanging around a hospital waiting for someone to get better. I'm a master at finding ways to alleviate boredom."

Barry's smile widened. "You're going to teach me how to do that, right?"

"And plenty of other cool stuff. There are a few easter eggs built into this baby that I can't wait to show you." He got to his feet, leaving the chair vacant. "Do you feel up to trying it out?"

Barry looked from himself to the chair, judging the short distance. He glanced back at his legs. The chair may as well be at the other side of the room. "I don't know if I can…" he said.

Cisco frowned, clearly looking at the problem from Barry's point of view. "I could lift you," he suggested.

"No." Barry thought about the problem logically, then pushed aside the blanket covering his legs. "Move it a little closer," he said. Cisco obliged, then held the chair in place, watching with obvious concern as Barry slowly and carefully inched himself down into the chair.

"Okay, I have to admit to being more than a little impressed at that," he said.

Barry shrugged. He was pretty strong, but the hospital bed towered above him, there was no way he was going to be able to do that in reverse. "So, talk me through this," he said.

"Well," Cisco said. "Why don't you try moving backward and forward first, maybe turning around, before we get to the cool stuff."

Barry shrugged. His hands gripped the wheels and he rolled backward.

"Okay, so turning works a little differently to how you might expect," Cisco told him.

As Barry listened to his friend's instructions, his hand moved once again to his thigh. The fingers pressed into the flesh, but this time, so faint that if he hadn't been paying attention he might have missed it, he felt something. Not much, a slight sensation of pressure, but it was something. A different result. He looked down, pressed harder.

He smiled.


End file.
